


in the sun

by orphan_account



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Gen, Team Bonding, but there are some fitzsimmons-y ~implications, not entirely shippy, summer fun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-16
Updated: 2014-06-16
Packaged: 2018-02-04 20:17:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1791886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Skye, Fitz, Simmons, and Trip spend a day off at the beach.</p>
            </blockquote>





	in the sun

**Author's Note:**

> I own nothing.
> 
> Technically post-finale but in a happy shiny world where nothing happened to Fitz (obviously). This is just a mindless excuse for team bonding tbh. Better not to read too much into it. 100% fluff.

The sun burned bright, and Simmons lathered on her second layer of SPF in two hours.. Skye watched on and laughed as the biochemist paid excessive attention to the bare skin on her shoulders.

“Don’t you think you’re going a little overboard?” Skye asked, slipping her sunglasses down to the tip of her nose.

Simmons narrowed her eyes at the hacker. “Not all of us are blessed with perfect caramel-colored complexions. Some of us burn very easily.”

Skye laughed again, rolling her eyes and adjusting her sunglasses back into place. She turned her attention to the boys, who each appeared to begun building separate sandcastles with their backs turned to each other.

“What are they doing?”

“Being children,” Simmons answered in amusement. “Fitz is going to burn,” she frowned, noticing he’d taken off his shirt. “Idiot.”

Skye glanced over at the scientist, who was watching Fitz with intent concern, her mouth twisted into a frown. He turned and rotated himself around the intricately constructed pile of sand to pay closer attention to the opposite side, revealing a slightly-more-than-toned physique than Skye expected to see on the engineer.

Simmons stood up and dragged her feet through the sand and over to Fitz, her handy economy-sized bottle of SPF in hand. Skye smiled to herself as she watched the two argue, probably over Simmons’ overly-concerned and motherly tendencies. Fitz sighed in visible defeat and turned as he allowed his female counterpart to spread a healthy amount of sunscreen on his back.

Skye didn’t miss the way Fitz’s eyes closed tight or the sideways tilt to his head at the feel of her touch. Or that Simmons’ hands lingered a little longer than necessary as she massaged it into his shoulders.  She left it up to him to cover his chest and then sauntered over back to her beach chair, a victorious grin plastered on her face.

“It’s adorable,” Skye blurted before she could help herself, “the way you look after him.”

“Someone has to do it,” she explained, closing her eyes and leaning back. “He certainly wouldn’t have remembered to do it himself, and then later on at the hotel, we’d all have to suffer through his incessant whining,” she paused briefly before lowering her voice a few octaves and attempting a Scottish accent. “‘Oh, bloody hell! Who’s damn idea was it to spend the day at the beach? Wah wah.’”

Skye laughed; these two could possibly be the end of her, with their adorably terrible impressions and cosmically in-tune mannerisms.

“You guys kill me,” she said simply, leaning back in her own chair to bask in the sun and allowing for the peace and tranquility of the day to wash over her.

It was rare that they ever got days to themselves, let alone found enough time to do something actually relaxing. It almost felt normal; she knew these people as a result of typical, everyday circumstances. They met working in an office or at a bookstore or in a class, not aboard a flying hotel that carried them towards different life-threatening destinations on a regular basis.

Her peace was short-lived; a cold splash of water was poured over her chest and she all but jolted out of her chair, screeching loudly. Triplett stood before her, chuckling that deep, almost melodic laugh of his, a bucket in hand.

 

“What the hell?!” she yelled at him and tried to pummel the large agent to the ground. “You piece of shit!”

 

Giving into Skye’s force, he stumbled backwards and fell flat on his back, the hacker falling on top of him. She had to remind herself that he was the enemy right now, because she was finding herself become much too distracted by the feel of his chest beneath her.

 

“I’m sorry,” he stammered out in between laughs. “I just couldn’t resist.”

“You’re the worst,” she replied, suppressing a smile.

He stared at her for a minute, expression unreadable, and she found herself getting rather uncomfortable under his gaze.

“You know, you and Agent Simmons don’t look bad in swimwear,” he teased, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “I’m thinking we should talk to Director Coulson about new S.H.I.E.L.D. tactical gear.”

“Ha-ha,” she said sarcastically, desperate that being in the sun all day reddened her complexion just enough to hide the blush that crept across her face. Maybe she should have taken a cue from Simmons and slathered on enough sunscreen to hide it.

Realizing she was still on top of him, Skye pushed herself up and walked over to Fitz, who was still paying careful attention to his sandcastle. Simmons had joined him now; the two of them hunched over the structure and created an intricate pattern with seashells and tiny pebbles.

She looked at Trip’s castle, which was impressive, but about seven or eight notches below what Fitz was able to accomplish.

“You call this a sandcastle?” Skye laughed, poking fun at him. “Have you ever seen a castle before, Agent Trip? That,” she pointed to the scientist’s creation, “that’s a castle.” Fitz looked up at Skye proudly for a second before turning his attention back to the sandcastle.

“Okay, one,” Triplett began, pushing himself off the ground, “that’s messed up. And two, Fitz has like, a whole lifetime of building things under his belt. So it wasn’t even a fair contest.”

"Excuses, excuses," she waved her hand in the air.

FitzSimmons backed away from the structure, wiping their hands off on the thin material of their swimsuits. Fitz cast a quick look at Trip's castle and scoffed.

"You wanna fight, Scotland?" He threatened jokingly.

The smug grin on Fitz's mouth diminished into a straight line. Simmons jogged over to her belongings to fetch her phone for a picture. Skye reached into the cooler for a couple of beers and tossed one to each of her teammates.

  
  


"Simmons," Fitz pounded at the door later at the hotel. He groaned loudly until she opened the door, shooting Skye a knowing glance, her wide brown eyes narrowed in annoyance.

He stood there in the doorway with his mouth twisted into a frustrated frown, wearing a crisp white tank top. His bare shoulders were a flaming shade of deep pink.

"Oh, dear! Come in," she said, fighting the urge to say 'I told you so.' As much as she sympathized with him, she could not help but think that it served him right for refusing to apply more sunscreen throughout the day. Their skin was not intended for the strong island sun, and it seemed as though he purposely neglected to take care of himself just to spite her. Simmons motioned for him to dispose of his shirt as she slipped into the bathroom.

Skye bit her lip and suppressed a giggle, much to Fitz’s irritation.

“Will you still be laughing when I’m dead?” He moaned and plopped down on Simmons’ bed. She returned from the bathroom carrying a small bag filled with emergency medical supplies.

“It serves you right,” she spoke softly as she gently rubbed a much-too-cold substance on his shoulders. “I hate to say it, but I told you so. Do you ever listen to me?”

“Please. You love to say ‘I told you so.’ If there was a Jemma Simmons action figure, the little button you press in the back would make the damn thing say ‘ _I told you so, Fitz_.’” He was using that shrill tone of voice he knew she hated, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

Annoyed, she pressed into the reddened skin on his shoulder, earning a high-pitched yelp in response.

“What the _hell_?!” He cried out, wincing in pain.

“I’m sorry,” she smiled innocently.

Skye laughed and rolled over on her bed so that she was facing the two scientists. She sat with her hands on her lap, watching as Simmons tended to Fitz’s burns.

“Do you guys want to go down to the bar and get drinks or something? I’m buying.”

Fitz glared at her, eyes narrowed. “No. I’m in too much pain.”

“Aw, come on! Drink until you forget about how much pain you’re in.”

“Maybe next time, Skye. I really don’t feel like it. But thanks.”

“And I’m exhausted.” Simmons added with a heavy sigh.

“Fine. Suit yourselves. I’ll just go drink by myself like a loser,” Skye joked, pushing herself off her bed and heading towards the door.

Simmons laughed to herself, shaking her head. She turned her attention back to Fitz.

“You’re all done.”

He yawned and reached for the television remote. “I think I saw something earlier about an X Files marathon,” he said, flipping the TV on. He found the channel within seconds and propped himself up against the headboard on Simmons’ bed, careful not to muss up the ointment cooling off his burns.

Simmons sighed, taking the empty spot on the bed next to him. “I’m exhausted, Fitz. I wasn’t just saying that to get out of hanging out with Skye. Too much sun, I think,” she yawned and stretched as though to emphasize her point, but leaned back and focused her attention to the television anyway.

He glanced at her and laughed; her eyelids looked heavy, like she could fall asleep at any minute, but her pupils were blown wide: she was as wired as he was. He shook his head, tossing the remote control to the side, and made himself as comfortable as he could get.

  
  


Skye sat out on the hotel patio, sipping from a bottle of beer and absentmindedly people watching. She was tempted to head back to her room and grab her laptop, maybe get some work done, but remembered she was supposed to be on vacation. A day away from technology wasn’t going to put a stunt in her hacking abilities, after all.

The song playing overhead through the sound system changed to an old tune Skye recognized and she closed her eyes and allowed her head to sway along to the rhythm.

“Jamming to the oldies, huh?” asked a deep, familiar voice, jolting her out of her trance. 

She rolled her eyes and turned her body to face him. “Trip,” she said, her tone flat.

“Skye,” he smirked and leaned back in his chair. “Where are Captain Brains and her Boy Wonder?”

“Fitzy got an itty bitty sunburn so naturally the world is ending. And Simmons needs a nap,” Skye laughed, bringing the bottle to her lips for another swig. “Nerds.”

Trip chuckled and shook his head. “Talking smack about your friends behind their backs. Tsk tsk, Skye. Thought you knew better than that.”

“They are, though. They’re losers who left me with no other choice but to drink alone so I could sit here and be harassed by creepy dudes when all I want to do is relax.”

He put a hand to his chest and pretended to be hurt.

“Well,” he began, “how about I buy you another? To compensate for my unwarranted advances?”

“That’s a start,” Skye smiled and watched as he called for a waitress.

He returned his attention to Skye, who was admittedly staring at him at this point. 

She blinked quickly and shook it off. “How much longer do you think all this will last?” she asked for the sake of conversation, but also because she was hopeful that the impossible would happen and we would say forever.

“The vacation?” he answered, wondering what she was referring to. “Because we went over this already? We’ve only got two days off.” 

“No. Not that. I mean, this. The peace and quiet. The not-constantly-having-our-lives-in-jeopardy part.”

Trip laughed. “Oh. Right. Not much longer, I’d guess. What fun would it be though?”

“Yeah, you’re right. I mean, with the exception of pretty much everything, working with S.H.I.E.L.D. is a _blast_.” She winced as soon as she’d said it. “Too soon?”

Their beers arrived and Trip passed a bottle over to Skye. He held his bottle out and tipped hers with it.

“To much more action but much less blasts in the future,” Skye toasted as their bottles clinked together.

“And to many more probably inappropriate puns,” Trip added with a smirk.

“Yeah,” Skye rolled her eyes. “Whatever.”


End file.
